


Instinct

by lostmemoria



Series: prompts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, how do I title?, how do i tag???, lol, lydia is banshee queen, parrish comforting lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostmemoria/pseuds/lostmemoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia screams her own death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by lockwoodforbes: Lydia going to Parrish’s in the middle of the night asking her help because she is sure she has just screamed her own death.
> 
> Hope you guys like the fic :)

Lydia isn’t even sure if it’s possible.  
  
But then it happens.  
  
She’s alone at home when it happens. Submerged in the warm water of her bath tub, accompanied by only her dog Prada, who sits innocently on the toilet seat. Lydia reaches for the bottle of red wine beside her and pours it into a glass, sips it, and then balances it in her hand just out of the tub. She’s about to close her eyes and just relax away, when she feels it start to creep up inside her. It crawls up her throat like a bad nightmare and Lydia wants it so badly to stop, but she knows it won’t.   
  
Instead, she braces herself. Her grip on the glass gets tighter and her feet are pushing against the tub as if she’s trying so desperately to break away, to break away from it all, the voices in her head, the stupid dead pool list, everything.  
  
But it’s too late.  
  
Lydia drops the glass full of wine before she screams. The loud crash of the glass breaking on the floor, combined with Lydia’s ear splitting scream, echoed through the walls of the tiny bathroom, making Prada whine and run out the door. Lydia screams and screams, because this isn’t just any banshee scream where she sees someone die.  
  
No, it’s more than that.  
  
It’s a scream predicting her own death.  
  
* *  
  
The doorbell rings.  
  
Parrish raises an eyebrow, wondering who could possibly want to see him this late night. So when he opens the door and finds Lydia Martin at his door step, hair completely wet and eyes red and afraid, he is more than just surprised.  
  
"Lydia?" It escapes his mouth at the mere sight of her, and he regrets the way it sounds like a question, as if she needs a reason to be at his door. As if she needs a reason to speak to him. All they’ve ever talked about are the crime scenes that Parrish always unexpectedly finds her at, and he wishes that her being at this doorstep wasn’t such a question to him. He wishes it was  _normal_.  
  
Lydia meets his gaze and enters his place without even asking. Parrish lets her, realizing that something is wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. He closes the door behind him. “Lydia—”  
  
"Lock. The. Door," she talks over him, her fingers tracing on his walls as she walks forward.  
  
Parrish does as he’s told and then carefully walks up to Lydia, placing a hand on her shoulder gently. “Hey, Lydia, are you okay?” he asks, worry filling his voice.  
  
The redhead finally meets his gaze and its a sad one as she looks up at him. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”  
  
As soon as the question leaves her lips, Parrish knows what this is about. The dead pool list. The same list that almost everyone close to Lydia is on, including him, and including  _her._ It’s strange for him to see a fear stricken Lydia, since he’s so used to seeing the bold Lydia Martin. But that’s where Parrish forgets, he forgets that Lydia is just a high school girl, and high school girls should be worrying about grades and boys, not whether their lives are in danger or not. ”No, Lydia, that’s not true,” he finally tells her softly. “We’re going to find out whose doing this before anyone else gets hurt. And I’m  _definitely_  not going to let anyone hurt you.”  
  
Lydia doesn’t say anything, but Parrish isn’t expecting what happens next. The redhead’s walls crumble down as she rushes forward, pressing her face against his chest and wrapping her arms around him, a small sob releasing from her at the same time. Parrish lets Lydia sob into his shirt and for a moment, he hesitates on what to do. And then, with nervous hands, he places a hand on the back of her head, while the other one slides across the small of her waist. He strokes her hair and holds her, because that’s all he can do, because no matter how much sensitivity training he’s been through, Parrish will always be surprised by Lydia Martin.  
  
When she finally lets go of him, her hands moving away slowly and brushing against his own hands, Parrish realizes how cold she is. “You’re freezing,” he tells her, and for a minute he wants to take her in his arms again, to warm her, but realizing how bad of an idea that is, he leads her to his couch instead, where she reluctantly takes a seat.   
  
"I’m going to get you some coffee," Parrish says as he moves toward the kitchen.  
  
Lydia nods, bringing her feet up on the sofa and crossing her legs. Parrish comes back carrying a mug of black coffee with two sugars, just like Lydia liked it, in one hand and a blanket in the other. He places the coffee in front of her and then carefully drapes the blanket over her shoulders, making her huddle into it.  
  
"Thanks," Lydia says as she takes a sip of the coffee.  
  
Parrish nods, taking a seat next to her. He has so many questions to ask her, but at the same time he doesn’t want to overwhelm her. And before he could say anything else, Lydia spoke.   
  
"I saw myself die," she says slowly. "In my own house. I…can’t go back." Her hands trembled around the coffee mug.  
  
"Hey, Lydia…," Parrish takes the mug from her hands and sets it aside so that she doesn’t accidentally drop hot coffee on herself. He isn’t questioning her psychic or intuitionist abilities, because he knows that Lydia is  _something_ , her ability to be at a crime scene before anyone else proved it. So when she says that her life is in danger, Parrish believes every word of it. “I’m not going to let you die. Not tonight, not any other night, not  _ever._ Okay?”  
  
Lydia turns to him and he sees that the fear that was once evident on her face has elevated a bit. And before Parrish can think twice about what he’s going to say next, he says it. “You can stay here tonight…”   
He knows it’s probably a bad idea and that he’s probably crossing some boundaries, but above all that, Parrish is most worried about her safety.  
  
Surprisingly, Lydia doesn’t think much of it because she nods and says, “Okay.”   
  
* *  
  
She doesn’t know how it happened. Just like how she screamed her own death, Lydia doesn’t know how she fell asleep in Parrish’s arms on the sofa. But she wakes up like that. In his arms. And for a moment, she doesn’t mind the deputy’s muscular arms around her, and for a moment she thinks,  _I can get used to him._  But then she remembers everything that happened last night, with her life being in danger, and how she cried on his chest, and she regrets putting him in that kind of position.  
  
Lydia could have easily gone to someone else last night, Scott or Kira or even Stiles, but for some reason, the first person she thought of was the deputy.  
  
Very carefully, she slides out of his arms and slowly gets up and off the couch. Lydia’s about to reach for her phone when she feels someone grab her wrist gently. Turning back, she sees that Parrish is awake, staring right at her. He has bed head hair and a dazed expression, which Lydia thinks is kind of  _cute_.   
  
"I’m sorry," is the first thing that comes out of Lydia’s mouth.   
  
Parrish looks at her, confused. “About what?”  
  
"Everything. That happened yesterday."  
  
He sits up on the couch, still holding her hand. “Don’t be sorry. Your life was in danger, Lydia.”  
  
"You don’t know that," Lydia says, biting her lower lip. "It’s not like…I can turn this thing on and off whenever I want. I don’t even trust myself with.." She pauses, choosing the right words since she knows that Parrish doesn’t know what she truly is. "Whatever this is, my psychic ability."  
  
Parrish frowns, “But I trust your psychic ability. And besides, if you felt unsafe, if you felt that someone was…after you, it’s better to act on it then doubt it. Trust your own instinct.”   
  
Lydia looks down at the deputy, slightly mesmerized by his words. “You’re right,” Lydia says. “Thanks, for everything.”  
  
Parrish gives her a smile and lets go of her hand. “No problem.”  
  
Lydia walks to the other room, telling Parrish she’s going to call her mom since she has at least ten missed calls from her. Her mother picks up the phone on the second ring.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
"Lydia! Thank god, I was so worried," her mother says, sounding relieved. "I thought that they took you…!"  
  
Lydia raises an eyebrow, confused. “Took me? Who? What are you talking about Mom?”  
  
"You don’t know? Someone broke into our house last night while I was out," she says.  
  
Lydia’s eyes widen. “What…?”  
  
"That’s why I was so worried. I called the sheriff and Stiles—"  
  
"Mom, when did they break into our house?" Her voice is full of fear again.  
  
"What? Um, well the alarm went off around ten minutes after nine," her mother answered. "Why? Why are you asking? Are you sure you’re okay?"  
  
Ten minutes after nine. Lydia’s breath hitches. She had left her house exactly at nine. “Mom…I’ll call you back,” Lydia says slowly before hanging up.  
  
She was right. She had predicted her own death.  
  
Lydia walks back into the room and Parrish is sitting on the couch waiting for her.  
  
"Is everything alright?" He asks, brows furrowed with worry.  
  
"I was right," Lydia says. "Someone broke into my house last night. Probably to try and kill me."  
  
Parrish’s expression didn’t falter. “We should go see the sheriff. I’ll drive you there.”  
  
Lydia nods, thinking she can call Stiles on the way there too. As the two of them leave Parrish’s place and head toward his car, the thought from earlier crosses Lydia’s mind again, even though its not the right place or the right time to think it. But it comes to her anyways, as she sits in the passenger seat of the car and watches the deputy, who she actually thinks is kind of _handsome_ , start the car.   
  
  _I can get used to him._


End file.
